


From The Sun To The World

by Sashataakheru



Category: Electric Light Orchestra, The Chaser RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - WWII, Community: au_bigbang, Genderswap, M/M, Other, mild depictions of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-07
Updated: 2014-01-11
Packaged: 2017-10-09 08:37:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/85180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sashataakheru/pseuds/Sashataakheru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>WWII AU set in Birmingham, UK in 1943. A mysterious aircraft falls to the ground near a pub in Birmingham, and the pilot inside warns of invasion. With Britain busy fighting a world war, it is hardly a warning that garners much attention. He reaches out to one man, hoping his warning be heeded in time before the world ends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Thursday Evening, April 22, 1943

**Author's Note:**

> Written for au_bigbang. Epic story is epic.
> 
> Fanmix (made by me) can be found [here](http://wolfanfics.livejournal.com/91635.html).

Miss Cassie Reucassel arrived at the club early, as usual, after leaving the refuge centre where she worked with her mother. It seemed like a perfectly calm night, which was either a blessing or a curse, depending on how much the Germans wanted to disrupt her routine. She was hoping nothing would happen. She had, though, gotten used to navigating through the darkened streets at night, thankful that she didn't have to travel far to get to her home. Not everyone was that lucky, and more than once people had been killed by bombing raids because they were out in the open on the streets.

Cassie shrugged off the fearful thoughts as she left the streets behind. Inside, it was warmer, and the people inside were at least trying to pretend like nothing was going on. Many of them she knew by name; they were here almost every night. Tonight, there were some soldiers and they sat in a group in their uniforms, chatting quietly. They all looked tired, but Cassie was hardly surprised. They had that same battle-weary look on their faces that all soldiers had. Cassie gave one of them a wink as she passed. She had seen him before, more often than the others, but had never really spoken to him. However, she didn't have to know his name to know he always looked at her with desire in his eyes.

Her attention was drawn away from the anonymous soldier as she saw Bev Bevan, the drummer of the band she usually played with, sitting at the bar. She perched on the stool next to him and ordered a drink.

"Well, hello there. You're looking a little lonely tonight, aren't ya?" she said. She had mastered the trick of leaning in close enough to ensure her desires were known without offending anyone. Later on, she might brush against his arm, just to reinforce the message.

Bev looked up at her and smiled. "Well, you weren't here. Of course I was lonely. Got here in once piece, I see."

"I could navigate those streets with me eyes blindfolded in pitch darkness," Cassie said.

"Yeah, I bet you could. Right before you got blown up," Bev said.

"I'd hit Jerry and their bombs for six and still be home for supper," Cassie said.

Bev couldn't help a small laugh. He knew her well enough to know that was probably true. "I don't know why they don't let you fight. War'd be over in a week."

"Ahh, that'd be too easy. Where's the fun in that? If you're gonna wallop someone, might as well make a decent effort of it." She smiled and finished her drink. "Can't say the Germans don't have it coming though."

Silence fell between them. Cassie was still waiting for the right moment to ask Bev to come out one night for a drink, just the two of them, but with the war and raids and everything else, no time had ever felt right. She ran a finger around the rim of the glass before asking for another. She sipped it this time, more of a distraction than anything else.

"You'd better get changed, they'll be calling you soon," Bev said, glancing at her watch.

She got to her feet and twirled around, showing off for him. "You sure I can't sing in me uniform? It's ever so fetching."

Bev gave her a look she knew well. She gave in and smiled at him again, her hand resting on his arm.

"Alright, alright, but you should come with me, I'll need a hand with the zip," Cassie said.

Bev laughed and got to his feet. "I thought you might. Come on, can't keep them waiting."

Taking his hand, Cassie led him to the back of the pub and the small room they had as a dressing room. It wasn't entirely kitted out properly, not like the big clubs in London, but it did the trick. Cassie kept all her outfits here for safe keeping. The room was also small and private enough for Cassie to steal a kiss or two from Bev. She cupped his cheek and marvelled at how smooth his skin was before stepping back, remembering she had to perform soon.

She turned to the dresses hanging at the end of the room on a dodgy-looking clothes rack as she slipped out of her uniform. It was neatly folded and left on a chair and she stood there in her underwear, somehow completely unashamed of doing so in the presence of a man who was not at all intimate with her.

"Right. Which one should I wear tonight then? Sparkling sequins, shimmering silk, or smouldering sateen?"

Bev leant against the dresser, not at all looking at the rack of clothes against the far wall. It was hard to look anywhere else when she was standing there like that. Their flirting had been mostly mutual, though Bev had always felt it ungentlemanly to ask her out when they worked together. It seemed unprofessional. Then again, he had his own reasons for remaining single, even if Cassie was doing her best to make him break them.

Cassie turned around and saw the way Bev was gazing at her. She approached him and rested her arms on his shoulders. "You're not thinking about anything at all, are you? Did you even hear my question? Go pick me an outfit!" Cassie laughed as she pushed him towards the clothes.

"Yes, ma'am, whatever you say."

* * *

Chris Taylor always watched Cassie, ever since he'd been transferred to Birmingham for the war. He was, at least, pleased he hadn't been sent to the Continent yet. He had no desire to get his head blown off just yet. It was a fellow Private by the name of Kelly Groucutt who'd introduced him to this particular little club. Sure, it was nothing like the clubs back in London, but there was a certain charm to it. There was also the fact there were precious few other places to go for a drink - that this particular club also had Cassie was the main reason he continued to drink there. Chris could ignore the scratches on the tables where young couples had etched their initials into the wood, the bar stool with a wonky leg, the crack in one of the stained glass windows by the bar; none of it mattered when Cassie was around.

He was there with some of the men from his battalion. Along with Kelly, who seemed able to supply almost anything for the right price, Dom Knight, another Private, had joined them, along with Chas Licciardello and Julian Morrow, who had the dubious honour of being the highest ranking officers in their group. Chris was still trying to work out how Chas had managed to get promoted to Lance Corporal, especially since he wasn't that much older than him. However, as much as he nitpicked Chas as a soldier, he was hardly much better, but pride made him find fault in others rather than in himself. He was at least pleased Julian outranked Chas; Chas needed someone to keep him in line. Chas had a tendency to follow his instincts rather than his orders.

Chris was always noticed when she entered. She looked beautiful, no matter what she was wearing, and he wanted to approach her to say how much he liked her, but he could never find the guts to, not when Bev was around. Chris was still a gentleman after all and had always assumed the two of them were together. Still, it didn't stop him watching her with a smile on his face.

"Are you still in love with her, Taylor? Jesus, don't you know when to give up?"

Kelly hit his shoulder as he spoke, breaking Chris from his staring. Chris turned to look at him with surprise, unsure what the problem was. He hadn't even heard him speak.

"Mate, she's way out of your league," Chas said, sitting back in his chair.

Chris looked at him, surprised, as if the thought had never occurred to him before. "What makes you say that?"

"You just have to look at her to know that. No way in hell would she want you," Chas said.

"Oh, I don't know, I bet I could charm her if I had a chance. I could take her back to London, show her some proper clubs," Chris said, trying to sound convincing.

"I can see that going well, can't you, lads? I bet she'd find some other charming gent while you were there and run off with him instead. You'd come crying back like a big baby, all alone," Chas said.

"You're also assuming she's not already spoken for. A girl like that is never single for long," Dom added.

"You really like dashing my hopes, the lot of you," Chris said, laughing off their teasing.

"I'm a realist, Taylor, and my realism tells me you got no chance with our Cassie. You need to find yourself a proper girl, not some showgirl like her. She'll run off before you can keep her," Chas said.

Chris sat back in his chair. He knew they were right, of course, but it didn't stop him thinking about her. He let himself drift off again as they talked around him, wondering what it would be like to be with her. He knew, of course, that their battalion could be called into action at any moment, but that didn't mean he didn't want to enjoy every day while it lasted, and if that meant dreaming about a girl he'd never have, well, there were worse ways to spend one's life.

* * *

Cassie heard the band start up. She took a moment to get into the right headspace before brushing aside the curtain with an elegant flourish and stepping onto the stage. The small audience cheered, and Cassie couldn't help but smile. She gave a wink to Bev before slinking over to the pianist as she began her performance. Then she felt like she was invincible. No one could touch her when she was singing.

She'd finally worked out a routine she was happy with. The songs worked, and she had found a level of flirting that was acceptable, and she flitted between the audience and the pianist, hoping it would annoy Bev enough that he would ask her out. It made performing just that little bit more interesting.

Chris watched her in silence. Cassie was utterly entrancing. When she sang, Chris still felt like she was within reach, that all he had to do was ask and she would come willingly into his arms. She had made a habit of walking the room as she sang; every so often, her hand would brush against his arm and he would look up at her in amazement and she would wink and smile and walk off again, leaving Chris to the mercy of his comrades' taunting.

So caught up in her singing that night, he did not even hear the explosion as something ploughed into the ground a few streets away. The lights flickered, the floor quivered, and the glass shook. Chris' first instinct was that it was a raid, and God help them, they needed to find shelter. Chas and Julian were already on their feet, listening for more bombs. Everyone fell silent, waiting for another bomb to drop.

There was sweet relief when another bomb didn't appear. There was no chilling siren, no shaking ground and the power was still on, albeit barely. Then the question was, if it wasn't a raid, what was it? A low whispering started as people relaxed, almost certain they were not about to be blown up.

"I suppose we should go see what that was. Might be one of ours," Julian said.

"What if it wasn't? What if they made it through undetected and it's a bomb waiting to go off?" Chris said.

"Taylor, it could be a visitor from Mars for all we know. That's no excuse not to investigate," Chas said.

Chris wasn't satisfied. "But it could be-"

Chas grabbed his arm and pulled him forward. "Taylor, stop being a prat. Come on, we should go see if there's anything to be done."

"Yes, sir, sorry sir."

"There'll be time for that later. Get moving, you idiot," Chas said, shoving him towards the door.

* * *

Feeling suitably chastised, Chris followed his friends out to the street. A tongue of flame and smoke marked the impact site that appeared to be a few streets away. Julian, being the highest ranking soldier, took charge and led them towards it. There was no crowd in sight when they found it. There was no wailing siren, no other sign of other planes or bombs. Indeed, there was a crater in the road, and a crumpled heap of metal. The flames had died down, and were a peculiar purple-orange colour.

"Careful, lads. Could still be dangerous," Julian warned.

"Hey, I think I can see someone in there. Maybe it's one of ours and they got shot down," Chas said.

"Chas, don't get yourself-"

Julian's attempt to stop him were in vain as he too spotted what looked like a man amongst the wreckage. Chas approached and tried to pry a sheet of metal away from where the man was trapped. There was a groan as Chas found him, badly injured.

"Come on, help me out here. The metal's alright to touch," Chas said, unconcerned by the cool metal he was now prying away.

Peeling away the metal was not as easy as it had first appeared, and it took some time before the man was freed. Chas carefully pulled him away and lay his coat down for him to lie on. Well, he certainly looked English, whoever he was. Chas was surprised he was still alive, given the savage wounds he'd acquired.

"Got a name, sir?" Julian said, kneeling beside the injured man.

The man struggled to open his eyes. His lips barely moved as he spoke. "...come... come to warn you... they're coming..."

Chas looked at Julian. Whoever he was, he was definitely English. "Who's coming? Not more bloody Germans, I hope."

The man tried to say something more but the effort was beyond him. He lay limp and still, unconsciousness taking over.

"There's always more bloody Germans. Might've been in a prison camp and escaped. Better get him to hospital," Julian said.

"Taylor, go grab the truck, and don't be tardy about it," Chas said, standing to address Chris, who was peering at the metal carnage.

"Yes, sir."

Chas shook his head as Chris ran off. "He'll be late. He always is. I bet he stops to talk to that Cassie again. Oi, Dom, go with him. Make sure he actually obeys for once. This poor chap won't last much longer."

* * *

In spite of the urgent order he'd been given, Chris was eager to get back to the club, if only to see if Cassie was okay. He checked back to see if he was alone before slipping inside. No one seemed overly concerned by what had happened.

"So, bomb was it?" an elderly gent asked him as he passed.

"Plane crash. Well, a small one," Chris replied.

He leant against the bar and ordered a whiskey. He sipped it as he avoided doing what he was supposed to do. Some movement over in a corner to his right caught his attention and he shifted slightly to see what it was. He felt he shouldn't have been at all surprised to see Cassie and Bev together. He had his arm around her. It was all Chris needed to know. He finished his drink and left the club.

Chris was more than a little irritated to find Dom waiting for him as he had planned to slip back inside, but before he had a chance, Dom clapped him over the shoulder and told him to hurry up, leaving him no time to ask Cassie out. That bloody Lance Corporal would pay for that.

"Get in the truck, Taylor. Don't make me force you again," Dom said, shoving him towards the truck as he noticed Chris' reluctance to get in, gazing longingly back towards the pub.

Chris turned away and decided it was better, for once, to do what he was told. After all, a man's life was at stake and he knew he'd never hear the end of it if he died on the street. He climbed into the passenger side. Dom started the engine and they drove off. Chas was just getting the man onto a stretcher when they arrived.

"So, do we go help?" Chris said.

"Stay here. We'll be needed to get going fast, I'm sure. You'd better sit back with him though. Go on," Dom said, shooing him into the back.

Chris found a crate to sit on and waited. Soon enough, Julian and Chas carried the injured man into the back of the truck. Chas had sort of cleaned him up, wrapping bandages around the worst of his injuries. He was still a mess though.

"You look after him, Taylor. He could be important. I've radioed the base, they'll send some men out here to collect the wreckage. We'll wait for them. You two go ahead and make sure he's still alive when you get there, eh?" Chas said.

"Yes, sir."

Chris sat down beside him and almost regretted it as he felt the truck rumble into life again. This wasn't going to be a smooth journey, but there wasn't really another option, so it would have to suffice. The man was, by now, unconscious. Chris distractedly checked his pulse as often as he could while they drove, just to make sure he was still with them. The hospital had been moved to a place away from the main city to avoid being bombed.

* * *

While Cassie would have been perfectly fine to walk home by herself, she did appreciate Bev being there, especially after what had happened. She had to admit it had shaken her a little, and she appreciated his offer to comfort her. It was still pitch black out, and with no lights, walking the short distance to her home always felt like it lasted much longer than it did. She'd gotten used to unlocking her front door in the dark and she hardly turned Bev away when he offered to stay with her, just to make sure she was okay.

One of the good things about the blackout though was that Cassie had a bit of privacy when she brought Bev home. She'd wanted him for a while, but she had always shied away from bringing him home alone. Her mother had an irritating ability to turn up at a moment's notice and she had never wanted to be caught with a man in her bed. It would be improper for an unmarried woman, or so her mother had always told her. Cassie wasn't sure she still believed it. Perhaps it was the near miss that had changed her mind.

Her bedroom was small, with a worn red carpet covering the floorboards. Her bed was an old double she'd gotten cheap a couple of years ago. A few trinkets lay on the bedside table and the dresser. She allowed herself to light a single candle, once she was sure the blinds were properly drawn and the light couldn't escape. That candle sat on her dresser, far away from the window. She wasn't entirely stupid, much as some liked to think she was.

Bev brought her into his arms and kissed her gently. She liked the way he kissed, and his skin was wonderful to touch. Slipping her coat off and hanging it over a chair, she had no inclination to change out of the silky red number she'd worn for her performance that night. There hadn't been time anyway, but that was hardly the point. It hugged her body closely, emphasising the way her hips curved and giving her just enough cleavage for her to feel proud of. She slipped her hands inside his shirt in between undoing the buttons one by one. She stopped when her hands touched bandages, wrapped tightly around his chest.

"Did you go and get yourself an injury? What you got bandages on for?" she said as she slipped the shirt off his shoulders.

Bev covered his chest with his arms and turned away from her. "It's nothing, I just-"

"What is it? Surely you can tell me. If it's just a wound, I'll be careful," Cassie said.

"It's not a wound, it's not that at all." He paused, unsure he wanted to tell her. Revealing his secret might be the death of him. Perhaps he shouldn't have come this far.

Cassie moved in front of him and rested a hand on his arm. "So, what is it then? What are you hiding from me?"

He met her gaze, surprised to see nothing but concern on her face. Was she really worried about him? Could he trust her? He'd never trusted anyone with his secret before. Then again, he'd never met anyone like her before. Maybe she was safe to tell.

"Alright, I'll show you, but you've got to promise you won't tell anyone. I've lived this way for too long to have this compromised now. Can you promise me that?"

Cassie wanted to make some smart remark, but something in his eyes told her to be serious. "Alright, I promise. It stays between us. May I?"

Bev nodded his agreement and she kissed him as her fingers began undoing the bandages. She figured it might settle him if she did it sensually enough. Soon, the bandages were left in a pile on the dresser, and Bev felt even more naked than he had before, his small breasts exposed to her. Cassie smiled reassuringly.

"I was born a woman. I-I mean, I'm still a woman, it's just. Well, you know what it's like. Dad always wanted a son, and well, I'm an only child so what else was he to do? I guess I'm used to it now. Being a boy. You don't hate me, do you?" Bev said.

"I wondered why you were so different from the others. Don't worry, I can work with this too," Cassie said, taking a step closer. She cupped his cheek and brought him into a soft kiss.

* * *

Chris was glad the man had not managed to die on them while they travelled to the hospital. He kept him as still as possible, trying to shelter him against the bumpy journey. Halfway there, he sat down beside the man and cradled him in his arms. It may not have been the perfect way to transport him, but if it stopped him getting any further injuries, so be it.

He began cleaning the remaining blood from his face as a distraction. The man didn't wake, of course, but that was hardly the point. Chris was surprised he wasn't dead, given all the injuries on his face alone. There was a particularly nasty cut near his left eye; Chris wondered if he might lose his sight. He looked about 40 years old, with a trimmed beard and hair that badly needed a cut. He didn't look like someone who might've escaped from a German prison camp though. In spite of the injuries, he looked rather healthy. Well, comparatively speaking, of course. Chris had seen soldiers returned from camps, and they did not look like this man at all. So if he wasn't from the camps, where did he come from? And why was he here?

Chris got none of these answers as they drove on. The man remained silent and still, cradled in his arms. When they arrived at the hospital, he and Dom carried him in. The man's condition meant he was hardly going to be turned away, and they took him in to see if he could be saved.

"I suppose we should get back," Chris said as they left the hospital. They'd done their job; there didn't seem much point in dallying.

"Yeah, I hope he makes it." Dom said. "Come on, you drive this time."

"You still trust me to drive this thing? You've got more faith in me than Julian does," Chris said, climbing into the driver's seat anyway.

"No, I don't trust you. But I'm too tired to drive. You can take me back to base so I can get some bloody sleep."

It was difficult to argue with that. Chris took the driver's seat and drove back to base while Dom dozed beside him. A small part of his mind wanted to head back to town after he'd dropped Dom off, just to see if Cassie was still around. However, it was very late and it was probable that she'd gone home instead. Chris cursed at his bad luck. There was always something getting in the way of him seeing her. Perhaps he should just give up on her, like everyone kept telling him to.

* * *

Back at the crash site, Julian wandered around the wreck, wondering what it might be. He had radioed for some help and a big truck, but apparently MI5 had heard about the crash and wanted to claim the wreck. Julian was fine with that - at least he wouldn't have to look after it. His men had been told to guard it and keep anyone away. By now, some people had gathered, drawn from their homes by the noise. They stood about on their doorsteps, wrapped in dressing gowns and blankets, eyeing the wreckage with suspicion.

It was a strange object, Julian decided. Even in its mangled state, you could almost make out the round shape of the craft. It was made from a silvery metal, but it didn't behave like any metal Julian was familiar with. It was very strong, it did not conduct heat, and it was pliable when it needed to be, which was how they managed to get the pilot out without injuring him further. The material just peeled away like ripping the lid off a sardine can. Actually, it was much easier than that. It was more like tearing paper. And yet… It appeared to be stronger than any metal known to man.

The inside was difficult to see, but it didn't look like it had been built by English hands. Perhaps it was a German test plane. But Julian didn't quite accept this theory either. There were no German badging on the craft, and it did not look at all like it had come from this time period. It was too... futuristic, even for Germans. Which made him wonder what on earth it was.

There didn't appear to be any buttons on what Julian assumed was the main control panel. There was a single piece of shattered translucent material. It wasn't glass, nor was it plastic. Julian picked up a few pieces in his hand and watched them melt into a liquid and coalesce into a single piece. It formed a perfect circle and shone brightly. When he put the disc near other pieces, they too began to merge together. The newly formed plate began emitting flickering coloured lights, and whirring noise, as if it was trying to repair itself.

Eventually, he gave up trying to work out its origins and decided to leave it for MI5 to deal with. They'd work out what it was. Maybe it was Russian. It didn't matter particularly; soon it wouldn't be his responsibility anymore. Julian took a seat on a nearby set of stairs, where Kelly had been sat, keeping out of the way.

"So, what do you make of it?" Julian said.

"Search me. Looks foreign. Never seen metal like that either. It behaves wrong. It's not supposed to do them things," Kelly said.

"You're telling me. And now MI5 wants it. I didn't bother to ask what they wanted it for. Though if they're interested, it's probably foreign. Ten bob they take it away and we never see it again," Julian said.

"No contest, that's what they always do. They'll probably take the pilot as well, move him to their base out in Lichfield. What they do to him there is anyone's guess," Kelly said.

Julian turned to look at him. "How do you know the base is out in Lichfield?" he asked. "I thought it was supposed to be secret?"

Kelly shrugged. "I thought everyone knew they were out there. They hardly made a secret of moving there. It's hard to miss a long convoy of military trucks. Plus, I've got a mate who said he'd been there, fixing up some lighting or so he said. There he was, doing his job, and there were spies all around him. Didn't know what they were doing though. He never heard any of them talk. Said they were a bit weird, kept looking at him like he might be some sort of German spy."

"Probably thought he was a spy himself. That's MI5 for you. Secretive bastards, the lot of them," Julian said.

"Secretive bastards? That's hardly the worst insult I've ever heard. You the one in charge?"

Julian looked up to see a pair of men in pristine Army dress uniform. Getting to his feet, Julian approached and saluted. "Corporal Julian Morrow, sir. We've kept the wreck secured."

"Good man. So, tell me what happened again. You say it just crashed out of the sky?"

The one who spoke was clearly superior to his companion. Julian felt he might almost have liked him, if they had met outside of a world war. There was something in his pale blue eyes that Julian found fascinating. His ginger hair was so neat and short, it was almost impossible to see from underneath his cap, but he had a round face and a body that was probably not as fit as it might be. His companion was almost his opposite, with a slender frame and eyes Julian recognised all too well. He wore his hat in such a way that his fringe stuck out at an odd angle; it looked dark brown, but it was hard to tell. Whoever he was, he'd seen war first hand. His superior still lacked that. He was probably some upstart from London who'd never been a soldier in the field.

"Well, sir, we were just in the club a few streets back, you know, taking some time off, and then we hear this big explosion, like a bomb going off. Of course there's no siren, but everyone's still panicked. I gather the men up and come investigate. We find this here, and there's some poor bloke inside. We've had him shipped off to hospital, though I'd be surprised if he makes it. Badly injured, he was," Julian said.

"Did he say anything?"

Julian thought for a moment, trying to remember. "He said... 'Come to warn you. They're coming'. And then he blacked out, sir. He sounded English, sir, one of us. Maybe he escaped from one of the camps."

"Hmm, it's possible, I suppose. Won't know until we question him. I've seen spies like him before. The Germans have gotten good at fooling us with men like him. Leave it to us, Corporal. We'll sort him out."

Aware the conversation was over, Julian saluted again and watched them move to the wreck. Julian sat back down beside Kelly, watching them investigate.

Kelly glanced at him. "The usual MI5 pricks then?"

"Oh, sure, just like always. Didn't even get their names. They'll dismiss us soon enough and we can head back to base and get some sleep."

Chas joined them then, leaning back against the stairs as he watched them working. He slipped out a small hip flask and took a swig, passing it around. "You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say that craft wasn't built on Earth."

Julian gave him a look that suggested Chas might be off his nut. "Of course it was built on Earth. What makes you think it wasn't?"

Chas turned to look at them, slipping a small notebook out of his pocket. He briefly consulted it, flipping through the pages to find where he'd last written. There were some messy diagrams and notes that made no sense to Julian. "I managed to get a look at some of the instrumentation, some of the wiring. It's not done like we do it. It's nothing like Earth, and it's got some weird components we'd never bother to use. Not even Germans build planes like that. There are also things in there I've never seen before."

Julian stifled a laugh. Sure, Chas might, for once, be telling the truth, but he was hardly going to admit it now. "Oh yeah, like what?"

"Some of the gauges, well, the ones that weren't crushed. And that clear stuff, that weird plastic material that seems like it's alive. You can't tell me that's natural either. I'm telling you, guys, it's not from Earth. I don't know who made it, but it wasn't humans. Maybe it was Martians or something," Chas said, eyes wide with possibility and his voice quivering with excitement. He made a promise to himself to try and rebuild it once the war was over, just to see if he could find out how it worked.

"You're completely mental, Chas. I know metal better than you do, and there's no way that was made anywhere but Earth," Kelly said, dismissing his theory.

Julian merely rolled his eyes and smiled. He knew what Chas was like when he got an idea in his head. His eyes were gleaming in a way that was never good. "You are not permitted to annoy MI5 or get in the way of their investigation. I'm not even going to let you go see the pilot, because I know that's what you were thinking of doing, am I right?"

"I was not! I was, you know, going to see Annalise," Chas pleaded, using a nurse he was rather acquainted with as a cover.

"You haven't used that excuse for months. We both know she was transferred anyway," Julian said.

"That's hardly the point. Look, can we go and see him? I want to see him properly, just once, before those loons take him away," Chas said.

Julian thought for a moment. If he said yes, and his CO found out, he was bound to get in serious trouble. On the other hand, Chas would probably go anyway, with or without his blessing. "You've got an hour. I won't cover you if you're late. Don't get those pricks pissed off either. It's me that'll have to answer for it."

"Don't worry, I won't piss them off. Might play with them a little though." Chas grinned and tried not to look as mischievous as he felt. Julian gave him a pointed look and Chas settled down a little. "Alright, alright, I'll leave our delicate little spies alone. Gee, you're no fun sometimes. I'll see you later."

And with that, Chas was gone. Julian sighed. "Keep an eye on him. I know what he's like."

"Good thing me parents live out there. Said I'd come visit. Get me some leave?"

"Sure. It's the least I can do. I'll organise it when I get back. Make sure he doesn't do anything stupid," Julian said.

"Will do me best, sir," Kelly said. With a nod and a salute, he was off.

Julian got to his feet. He should probably head off to base again, and wait for his men to return. He looked up as Chris returned from the hospital. Julian approached the truck and peered inside.

"You alone, Taylor?"

"Took Dom back to base, needed some shut-eye, sir. Came straight here in case I was needed," Chris said. "Are we done here?"

"Yeah, take us back to base. I think we both need some bloody shut eye," Julian said, climbing inside the truck.

"Right on it, sir," Chris said as he revved the truck and drove off away from the crash site.

* * *

Andrew Hansen watched his commanding officer as he supervised the crew who were retrieving the wreckage. A crane had been brought to lift it onto the back of a truck to take it back to their base. There was little for him to do, as Charles Firth had pretty much taken over, even though he'd insisted he come with him. Andrew had never quite fully respected him once he learned he'd never seen combat. Andrew had nearly died fighting the Italians in Egypt. It had been a surprise attack, though the numbers were small, and Andrew had been given a gun and told to shoot anyone who wasn't British. It had made a man of him, that one night, and when he'd gone back to the mainland, he'd asked to stay. He did not wish to see more combat.

And so he found himself sent to Lichfield with Charles to deal with foreign spies. He wanted out, if he was being perfectly honest, but he had grudging respect for the rest of his command and he could think of no reason he would be allowed to be discharged, so he would serve until this God-forsaken war was over and retire after that. It had given him too many nightmares.

Charles calling his name broke him from his reverie. He looked up to see Charles standing before him, looking annoyed.

"Take the truck. Head to that bloody hospital and pick up our pilot. Don't let them refuse. He could be a spy, so we can't just leave him in civilian hands, alright? Got that, Hansen?" Charles said.

"Oh, yes, of course. Right on it."

Charles grabbed his shoulder as he went to leave. "Look, are you okay Andrew? You've been rather scatterbrained lately. I don't need to force you to take some leave, do I?"

Andrew hated the concern in his eyes. "No worse than normal, sir. I should get going."

Charles wasn't ready to let him go. He stared at him, trying to stare him down, but said nothing further on the subject. There would be time to confront Andrew about it later, not when spies might be on the loose. "You'd better get going then. I'll expect a brief when you get back."

"Yes, I expected as much. I'll be as quick as I can."

With a quick glance back at his boss, Andrew headed off. Charles watched him go before turning his attention back to the craft that had crashed and the team who were getting it ready to transport.

* * *

Consciousness came slowly to the injured pilot. Swirling memories of being on another planet, of hiding behind a rocky mound as he watched them gathering soldiers, of knowing things were about to change, of an acute sense of panic, all these played out in his mind as he slept. He knew he'd managed to escape from them. He was also aware he had made it to Earth. He hoped he'd arrived in the right place at the right time, but he wasn't sure. There had been an explosion and he had crashed. What caused the explosion he could only guess. He just hoped he hadn't been followed.

Assuming these humans were nice enough to not kill him and he was in fact still alive, he might have a chance once things stopped hurting. He wasn't used to taking human form for so long. His bones were aching at their inflexibility, and his back had never quite forgiven him for learning this particular form. It had come in handy in the past - or was it the future? - and there were certainly many things he liked about living on Earth as a human. The name he usually took as a human was Jeff... Jeff something. Jeff Smith? Jeff Wood? He couldn't quite remember, and it bothered him less than he thought it might. That said, he felt he should remember his human name for when he was properly awake, and not just lying on a bed, barely alive. Sure, it had been a risk, coming to Earth, but it had been a risk he was willing to take. He didn't like the idea of the Earth being invaded and destroyed, so he came to warn them, to protect them. Maybe they would be strong enough to fend off their attack. Jeff hoped so.

Was he protecting them? He wasn't even sure anymore. He thought he could hear explosions far away, but it was hard to tell. There were other, quieter, noises that he could hear around him. The air tasted weird, all tangy, metallic and sharp, and he found himself coughing a few times as he got used to it filling his lungs again. He didn't try to move. His body felt heavy as lead, and his eyelids refused to open.

As his awareness stretched beyond his body, he became aware of someone beside him, holding his hand. He thought he was moving his fingers. He couldn't really tell, but his brain was convinced he was moving his fingers, even if he really wasn't. All it did was send sparks of pain flying up his arm. Oh, that wasn't good.

"Hey there. You awake, are yeh?"

It took a while to realise the voice was speaking English, a language he could understand once he recognised it. He tried speaking so he could reply to her question, but he wasn't sure if merely hearing his own voice in his head meant that same voice was actually being spoken aloud. It was hard to tell, just like moving his fingers.

"I don't know. I don't even know," he said, his voice weary and soft.

"Took a right beating, you did. I'm surprised you're even awake. Most men I've seen come in with your injuries don't wake up for days."

He tried to laugh, but it came out as a wheeze. "Well, love, I ain't like most men you've seen then."

He decided to stop talking. It was draining what little energy he had left. He still couldn't open his eyes. His body relaxed and he lay there, getting used to the air he would have to breathe until he could leave this planet for home. Slowly, the ache in his lungs was fading. It wasn't a great ache compared to the rest of his injuries, but it was enough. He thought he felt something cold running up the inside of his arm before he fell deep into sleep again.


	2. Friday Morning, April 23, 1943

Chas was trying to rev the car he'd 'borrowed' from a friend when Kelly joined him, slipping in beside him as if he was meant to be there. The car wasn't that interested in starting, and Chas cursed a little and tried again.

Chas glanced over at Kelly as he wondered whether the car could be hotwired. "Julian, right?"

"Who else? Besides, you're not the only one who's a little curious about our man in there. Shall we?"

"Definitely, when this bloody car decides to start. Here, give us a hand, will you?"

After a little more persuasion that resulted in both of them ending up spattered with oil as they tried to get it working, the car finally started. Chas, excited as ever, got behind the wheel. Kelly joined him, eager to get going at last.

"You know what I like about you? You like a good adventure," Chas decided as he revved the engine and sped off.

There was excited conversation between them as they drove, exploring all kinds of ideas as to who the man was, why he had come and what kind of ship he'd been flying in, until they arrived at the hospital. It was very late, and sneaking in would not be easy. Even though it was not as heavily staffed at night, that didn't mean it would be easier.

"Where should we leave the car?" Chas whispered. "How bout on the edge of this road here? Not a far walk and no one'd suspect it."

"Nah, lone cars are always suspicious. And it appears we have company," Kelly said, noticing the bright headlights behind them.

"Shit. We'd better keep going, pretend we're on some sort of business. Can you see what it is behind us?" Chas asked, daring a glance over his shoulder as he thought about what to do next.

"Not with them headlights, I can't. Here, keep going and turn round. Dim the lights. We'll be able to double back and see who it is."

Chas nodded his head in agreement. "An excellent suggestion."

Given the headlights, it did look a lot like some sort of truck behind them, but there was no way of knowing for sure. Chas dutifully continued past the hospital as Kelly watched to see if that was indeed where the vehicle was going. Sure enough, it turned into the hospital and Kelly couldn't help smiling.

"Go on, go back. He turned in there. We'll go see who it is," Kelly said.

Chas was more than happy to do so and turned the car around as they headed back to the hospital. They made sure they were hidden behind some trees as they parked the car. It was close enough to sneak around and see who was getting out of the truck.

"Army truck. Only one aboard though. Looks a bit of a ponce from here. He's no regular soldier at any rate. Probably here for our crashed pilot, what'd you reckon? Should we go mess with him?"

"Well, maybe a little. Come on, I think I know where he's going," Kelly said.

They didn't dare approach the hospital until their soldier was out of sight, just to make sure they weren't seen. They entered as casually as possible and Chas had to stop himself giggling too much as Kelly sweet-talked a nurse into believing they were here to see a mate, that they were there so late as they'd just come home on leave and would it be too much just to sit by his side, just for a while? With her permission, they headed off inside, wondering where the crash pilot was.

* * *

Andrew was not in the best of moods when he arrived at the hospital. It was getting late and he was more interested in sleeping. Nor did he believe their crashed pilot would be allowed to be transported so soon after arriving, so it was likely he would be spending some time at his bedside before he could return to base. He followed politely as the matron led him to the ward he was in.

There was a nurse by his bedside, watching over him, a blonde girl by the name of Abigail Wintress. She had attended to the injured man since he'd arrived and had found herself unable to leave his side. She had eventually succumbed to tiredness and lay asleep beside him, her hand still holding his gently.

"I suppose he's in no fit state to move," Andrew said.

"He's staying right where he is til he wakes. Who're you anyway?" the matron asked. She was a tall thin woman and her husband was a pilot in the Air Force. She took her duties very seriously.

"I'm with MI5. He's ours, orders from the top. I don't want anyone getting access to him apart from you, and your nurse, until he's able to be moved," Andrew said. "She can be trusted, can't she?"

"All my nurses can be trusted, sir, you have my word on that. Even if this one does fall asleep on duty," the matron said. She took a step forward to swat the girl across the head with the back of her hand.

Abigail woke and quickly got to her feet. She mumbled an apology to the matron as she approached. "Sorry, ma'am. Sorry, sir. I'm really a very good nurse, it's just-"

"Yes, dear, there'll be time for that later. Now, don't you let anyone but us come in and see him, alright? Military's got hold of him now."

Abigail glanced at the injured man curiously. "Is he some sort of spy then? Who do you think he is?"

"No idea, miss, not til we've talked to him. He hasn't spoken has he?"

"No, sir. Just been laying there, all peaceful. Got himself some terrible injuries though. I'd be surprised if he makes it, to be honest with you. Poor mite," Abigail said.

"Well, clearly he's not coming back with me tonight, so I'll leave him in your capable hands. Let me know the moment he wakes."

The nurse returned to her patient as the matron escorted Andrew out. She took the man's hand again and wondered what he was thinking about. Did he dream? Was he dreaming of what he went through? The thought that the poor man was reliving nightmares wasn't a nice one and she began singing him a soft lullaby, hoping to ease his sleep.

* * *

Chas followed Kelly as they made their way towards where they thought the injured man might be. Seeing the same MI5 man from the crash scene being led out told them they were on the right track. They quickly hid behind a wall as they passed, not wishing to be caught. Once they were out of sight, Chas and Kelly continued until they found the right ward. The man was being sung to by a young nurse. She hadn't noticed they were there.

"Come on, I just wanna see him-" Chas whispered as he gestured Kelly to follow him.

They sunk back against the wall, wondering when the nurse might notice them. The pilot was asleep, lying almost lifelessly on the bed. It was hard to make out anything else, given the bandages that covered all the wounds on his body, but he looked peaceable enough. They listened as she finished her song. She turned to see them, wondering how they had gotten in. They weren't supposed to be there and she hoped they would be easily persuaded to leave. She got up and approached them.

"You're not supposed to be here. I'm not supposed to let anyone see him," Abigail said.

"Shh, it's okay. We just wanted to see him, just for a minute, before MI5 carted him off. We'd never see him after that. See, I reckon he's some Martian from outer space. The ship he crashed in wasn't made here, wasn't even made by bloody Germans. He said anything yet?" Chas said, keeping his voice low.

"Mate, I've heard you come up with some crazy ideas, but this has to be the strangest one yet. How can he be some alien? He's human," Kelly said.

"I've told you already, it's the way his ship was made, he-"

"Just go, please, before Matron gets back." Abigail glanced around, checking no one was coming. "You've had a look, now, okay? Just go," Abigail said, pushing them towards the door.

"Okay, okay, we'll go. Look after him, hey?" Chas said, not willing to push his luck any further.

Chas was a little disappointed he hadn't been able to stay very long, but at least he'd seen him. Maybe he'd fake some other excuse and sneak back in again tomorrow. The man wasn't going anywhere, at least for a day, so it was possible he could sweet-talk Julian into giving him another chance to get out there again. Another plan forming in his mind, he and Kelly made their way back to their car and drove back to base, hoping they'd managed to be away under an hour and not get Julian in trouble.

* * *

Cassie lay in bed, wide awake. The repercussions of what she'd done with Bev were beginning to sink in. Sure, he might be accepted as a man, but she knew different, and while that did nothing to dent her love for him, she still felt like she was doing something terrible. She shifted a little, getting more comfortable as his arm wrapped around her. She didn't feel quite so small in his arms, not like with other men. They fit together in a way that was almost perfect.

"Hey, you awake?" Cassie whispered, glancing up at him.

"Maybe," Bev replied, keeping his eyes closed.

Cassie sat up and leaned against his chest. "They're gonna let us be together, aren't they? We're not going to be pulled apart?"

Bev woke properly and sat up a little. "Why do you say that? Why wouldn't we be able to be together?"

"Cos, you know, you're different. What if we end up married and mother keeps asking why we don't have any children? Then what?" Cassie said.

Bev stroked her hair gently and smiled. "You worry too much. It's not like anyone knows I'm a woman. I was doing this long before anyone knew any different."

"Yeah, but I'll know. You'll know. I don't know if I can live with that," Cassie said.

"We've barely got together and you're already worrying about that? Let's just try and get out of this war in one piece, shall we?" Bev said.

She settled down beside him and closed her eyes. Then that terrible siren rang and Cassie felt she was about to die.

* * *

Dressing as quickly as they could, Cassie and Bev hurried downstairs and to the shelter at the end of the road. There were no bombs close to them at the moment, but that could always change. Cassie looked back down the street as she watched flames leap into the air as bombs destroyed houses and factories and whatever else the Germans wanted to wreck. She couldn't look away. Bev had to grab her hand and drag her to safety as a bomb exploded two streets from them.

Cassie looked at all the frightened faces, people running for their lives. Screams of horror when someone didn't make it out before the buildings collapsed. Cries of pain from anyone who'd been injured. The Wardens trying to get people to safety. All about them was the whine of the planes and the bombs falling, the way the sky was black and red and glowing hideously, the giant flames that destroyed whatever they touched, the eerie siren that did nothing to protect them; if this was what Hell looked like, Cassie didn't want to live there anymore. Cassie took one look out at the street before heading inside the shelter. Few children were left now. Most had been evacuated when the bombings had first started. Those that were left were bent over from exhaustion.

She hugged her coat close to her, wishing she were home in bed and that none of this was happening. Bev wrapped a protective arm around her shoulders, and she leant against him, exhausted but too tired to sleep.

"When's this bloody war going to be over, hey? I've almost had enough near misses for one lifetime," Cassie murmured as the bombing continued around them.

"Haven't we all?" Bev murmured.

It was the last word either would say before a bomb fell close to them, destroying several houses and sending fire and debris everywhere. Cassie clung to Bev as they tried to protect themselves from injury. Thankfully, the bunker had saved them from more serious injuries, but it hardly mattered anymore, not when you could lose everything in a matter of seconds.

Time felt like it was in slow motion as they huddled together, trying to ignore the ground shaking and the explosions all around them. Glass shattered, bricks fell, and bombs exploded like a thunderstorm on the ground, leaving nothing untouched. The one light in the shelter flickered on and off. Cassie started counting the seconds between the bombs, but she stopped when she realised this was no ordinary raid. There were too many bombs. Too many explosions. As she gazed around, she watched everyone as they came to the same realisation. Fear etched itself into their faces. This might be the last night they ever see. Someone started singing an old church hymn Cassie couldn't remember the name of. Cassie didn't think it'd be enough to save them.

* * *

Chas and Kelly had just managed to arrive back at their military base as the siren rang, and they left the car where it was as they went to find Julian. There was no time to defend themselves, they just had to hide and hope for the best. With nothing else to do, Chas and Kelly joined Julian and whoever else was around as they hurried into the bunker as a bomb exploded far too close for comfort.

Chas had never liked the shelters. They were dark horrid places. He always felt one day they'd collapse on top of him as he was hiding away and he'd be buried alive under a mound of dirt. He felt it a most undignified way to go. It had given him the habit of sitting as close to the entrance as was safely possible.

The silence around them was palpable. It was always possible the Germans had managed to find their military bases and were intent on destroying them, so a bomb so close felt more like a warning shot than anything else. Next time, they might not be so lucky. Fighting back would just give their position away, and they weren't supposed to waste their missiles anyway. They were for the boys overseas, not for the defence of the Home Front. Well, not when they had thought the threat of invasion had passed.

No one could speak. Chas looked around at the soldiers. He might not've been very old himself, but there were too many young faces here. He wondered how many had lied about their ages, or whether it was just pure fear that made them seem so young. Julian looked sick with worry. What did he know that he wasn't telling? Chas couldn't work out why he looked so guilty. He wanted to shift over and talk to him but the ground shook from another close explosion and he stayed where he was, eyeing the ceiling as if daring it to collapse on him.

* * *

It had caught them completely by surprise. Too busy with the crashed spaceship, attention had been diverted from the German planes advancing in silence. They had been too close to stop when they had finally been spotted, and the alarm was rung with barely enough time to get to shelter. All over Birmingham, people woke from their sleep and hurried to whatever shelter was closest before the bombs started falling.

Fire-fighters had been deployed all over the city from the moment the first bombs fell, trying to stop a firestorm engulfing what was left of the city. It was dangerous work, but if anyone was going to survive at all, those fires needed to be kept under control. It would be a very long night for all involved, and not all would make it out alive.

* * *

There was no time to sleep, not now. A deep sense of urgency spurring him into consciousness, a voice deep inside him desperately urging him to wake, Jeff opened his eyes at last. He had mostly gotten used to breathing the air around him – though every breath brought a slight burning to his throat, it was nowhere as bad as it had been, and though his body still ached, he was beyond tired now. He was too alert. Whatever was going on around him, whatever bombing was going on, it was not giving him any rest.

He sat up. There were things to do. He couldn't rest, not now. His warning needed to be passed on. He needed to tell someone, the right person, and he wasn't sure he'd found them. However, as much as he wanted to get out there and tell anyone who'd listen, his body very much did not wish to go. He cringed at the pain in his leg and chest and lay back down again. Perhaps it would have to wait. He tried to reach for the drawer beside his bed, hoping some of his things had survived the crash, but he couldn't reach it, let alone summon the strength to open it.

Giving up, he settled down again, wondering when he'd be able to get out of here. He hoped he wasn't too late. Maybe the bombing was the invasion he'd come to warn them about. Maybe he had failed. He would die if they found him, he was quite sure of that. It seemed a better fate than most he could think of. With nothing left to do, he lay back and listened to the bombing, his mind devoid of thought.

* * *

Chas was up and out of the shelter as soon as the second all-clear was given. There was no way of knowing how many had been injured or killed and the sooner they attended to them, the better their chance of survival. They'd developed a routine of grabbing supplies from an underground bunker, water, food, medical supplies, stretchers, supplies set aside specifically for such emergencies, and heading out in small groups to get to as many people as quickly as possible.

The battalion had gotten used to this sort of work. If the Germans were good for anything, it was giving the men a chance to put all their emergency response drills into good practice, and they'd become very efficient at getting to everyone as soon as they could to minimise the deaths. While they might not be deployed over on the Continent, fighting on the frontline, they were back home looking after their people. It somehow seemed more important, at least on a small scale. What was the point in fighting overseas if there were no people left to come home to?

There were few left on the base once everyone had rolled out. A long convoy of trucks snaked through the countryside towards town. A field had been hit and the dawn light was just enough to make out the rim of a large crater dug into the middle. If there had been any animals around, they had fled, though one unfortunate horse lay dead not far from the crater.

The Germans had come in two waves. The first raid had been bad enough, but the all-clear did not last and soon everyone who had dared to leave their shelters was running back to seek them again as the attack continued on for hours. They seemed intent on bringing them down with them, destroying as much as possible.

As the convoy neared town, the damage was more apparent. The town had avoided a fire storm, but there wasn't much left standing and fire-fighteres were still putting out fires all over the place. The air was hazy with smoke, slowly drifting from extinguished fires and burnt buildings. Some streets were blocked by debris and rubble and would need to be cleared before anyone could get through to look for survivors. Everyone prayed it was the last raid they would ever have to endure.

The convoy met in what was left of the town square. Their CO told them where to search and sent them off. Chas, for once, was quiet as he sat in the truck next to Julian. It was hard to be happy when everything had been so badly bombed.

"Chas, there was nothing we could have done. We're not supposed to fire back, it'd give us away. Then we'd have been bombed and they wouldn't have missed. Now cheer up and concentrate on what we're supposed to be doing," Julian said, glancing at him as he drove.

"I don't like feeling so helpless, Julian. We're supposed to be protecting them, and what do we do? Hide like the rest of 'em. I didn't sign up so I could hide away like a coward. It's hardly fair," Chas said.

"It's what we're supposed to do. Don't go crowing about unfairness. They managed to miss the base this time. I'd wager some folk weren't so lucky," Julian said.

It was hard to argue with that. The street they stopped had about half the buildings still standing, though just how safe they were was not yet known. They drove as far as they could before they got out and started looking for survivors. It was a street-by-street process, as unhurried as they could manage.

Chas and Dom went to check the shelters while others searched rubble for anyone who hadn't managed to get out. Chas still hated shelters, especially when he saw everyone still inside. Most had fallen asleep, though Chas doubted very much it had brought them any peace. He stepped inside after prying the bent metal door open enough to get people out.

"Hey, is everyone alright? Anyone hurt at all?" Chas said.

Slowly, people began to wake, and Chas set about getting them a little water. Chas felt it was time everyone was evacuated, not just children. This couldn't go on any longer. One woman appeared to have a fractured ankle, and Dom did his best to splint it and keep it still before he carried her out to the truck. She was the first of many who would be taken to hospital that day.

* * *

Cassie woke in darkness. Apart from an overwhelming numbness, all she could feel was her head aching as if it had been cut badly, and her ribs hurt. She wondered what had happened. Had they been hit? Had their shelter not stood up to German bombing? It was hard to remember. Waking up a little, her eyes began adjusting to the darkness. She squinted at the daylight coming in around the door. Getting to her feet, she reached for a lantern. Someone grasped her hand as she was about to strike a match.

"Don't - there could be gas around," a voice warned.

"There's no gas, boy, I can't smell any," another voice said, apparently that of an elderly gentleman.

"You can't smell anything, gran. Trust me, there's something in the air. We'd better get out of here," the first voice said.

Too dazed to argue as panic began to set in, she set the match back in its packet. A couple of men began pushing against the door, trying to get it open. Eventually, it budged, and sunlight came pouring in. Cassie followed them out, aware there were probably others behind her. The street looked so different now. Half of it was gone. It took her a moment to realise her house had been destroyed. Then again, so had the houses that neighboured it.

Distraught, she ran over to the rubble. She wanted to scream and shout and bomb the bloody Jerries back, but it was a reaction she was incapable of voicing. She dropped to her knees and wept, barely noticing Bev sitting down beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

"It'll be alright, Cas. We're still here. We'll keep going, like we always do," Bev murmured, though even he felt her anguish as he gazed upon the rubble.

Cassie dried her eyes with the back of her sleeve. "It'll never be the same. I'm so tired of this war and everything it's taken from us. I want it all to be over."

* * *

Dawn came. The bombing had, thankfully, stopped, and the whining sirens had finally been silenced. The air was heavy and still. Jeff knew that feeling well and it did not calm him at all. He sat up again, wondering if his body was up to walking yet. Maybe he could sneak out amidst the chaos of casualties being brought to the hospital and go find who he wanted to talk to. Just as he'd swung his legs over the edge of the bed, a nurse entered to check on him.

"Well, you're a feisty one, aren't yeh? Would've been surprised if the bombing hadn't woken yeh, to be honest. Woke everyone else up. How are yeh feeling then?" she asked as she approached him.

Jeff squinted and yawned, even though he wasn't tired. "Far too awake to sleep. What's going on out there?"

The nurse gave him a strange look as she checked his pulse. "You got a touch of amnesia, eh? There's only a bloody war on. 'ere, I'll go get matron. She wanted to see yeh once you woke."

And then Jeff was left alone. He was happy to let things settle. He didn't feel as bad as he had before. His body still ached, but moving didn't seem to hurt as much anymore. His head still ached terribly though. He couldn't quite work out where all his injuries were; the pain had dissipated over his body rather than stay attached to the specific wound sites. He flexed his fingers, wincing only slightly at the twinge of pain in his arms as he did so.

He could finally reach the drawer beside his bed, and he was delighted to discover a few things had survived the crash. He picked them up, hoping they still worked. The fob watch had stopped, but it wasn't broken. After winding it, it began ticking again. He would've been in trouble if that particular artefact had broken. He needed it to tell him when he had to lose the human disguise. He could only sustain it for so long before he'd have to change back. He'd never found a way to keep it any longer; there was also the danger that if he did stay that way too long, he might end up becoming human permanently, and that was something he was unwilling to risk. While he didn't mind being human, or at least appearing human, there were severe disadvantages and he didn't like being so cut off. His species had evolved the ability to take on disguises as a survival mechanism, not for long term secrecy.

The other items that had survived were a small pen-like object and a small piece of translucent material set in a silver frame. They both had their own uses, though they were by no means the most important of his things. Necessity had forced him to carry a small weapon with him, which appeared to be missing, as was the pair of glasses he usually wore on Earth to protect his eyes. The Earth's sun was not particularly kind to him. He would have to be careful to avoid daylight while he was here.

Then again, as he sat there thinking about what had happened, nothing had gone right. He hadn't even gone to Mars to spy on the coming invaders; he'd been there to see an old friend who had requested his company in his dying days. That he had happened upon the invaders was pure coincidence. There had been little time to work out the best plan of attack. He worked out they were going to Earth to invade, and worked out the general timeframe for their visit, but that was it. He finished his business with his old friend before rushing off, hoping to beat the invaders to Earth. Just as he was about to land, he'd been shot down - by who he didn't know. And now he was in hospital, being looked after by humans. And there had been bombing last night. Severe bombing that had lasted most of the night. Perhaps he was too late after all.

* * *

Andrew hadn't been there to receive the call from the hospital. He'd been too busy catching up with reports from the night before, hoping they could find some reason for the sustained bombing their radar hadn't picked up. It had caught everyone off guard. Shivers of worry had begun sweeping through Military Intelligence as everyone began to wonder if perhaps they might actually lose this godforsaken war after all. The Germans had been known to have developed some very advanced technology; the British were doing their best to counter it, but missing a raid as big as that was troubling, and emergency meetings had been called in London with the Prime Minister and his military commanders to work out what to do.

As the Midlands Regional Commander, Charles had been summoned as well, and had left at the break of dawn to get there as soon as he could, leaving Andrew in charge. If he was honest, Andrew appreciated the distraction of the very minor issue of going to pick up some random spy from hospital from the worry that they were aout to be invaded. Taking a couple of men with him, they drove through the countryside to the hospital. Their normal route, however, was blocked. The road they normally took had been blown to bits, forcing them to head back down towards Birmingham itself. Picking a route through uncertain terrain was not exactly pleasant and they found many dead ends along the way. The whole journey took half an hour longer than they'd anticipated.

The matron was waiting at the entrance as Andrew and his men approached. Those injured during the raid were beginning to be brought in for treatment, and the chaos was beginning to build. It was still early, but there was a sense it was only the beginning. Extra beds had been sent for and extra wards were being set up to make room for the wounded.

"You took your time," the matron said, eyeing Andrew with irritation. "Your man's awake. Bombing must've woken him."

"It wasn't my decision to bomb half the roads around here, ma'am. You can't be sure any route is still safe. Is he alright?" Andrew said.

"This way. You can see for yourself," she said as she turned and gestured towards the left side of the corridor. Andrew followed obediently, not wishing to annoy her further.

The matron led the way through to the man's ward. "He's awake. We don't have a doctor spare to look over him properly, what with all these injured folk coming in."

"We'll get him looked at then."

Nothing more was said as they headed towards the man's ward. Andrew stood in the doorway as he watched the man sitting on the bed. The man looked much bigger sitting up, now that Andrew could see him properly. Andrew gestured for the matron to wait outside and entered, sitting on the bed beside the man.

"You got a name, sir?" Andrew said.

The man hesitated a moment before he spoke. He still couldn't remember what surname he'd used when he was last on Earth. Might as well not bother mentioning that little detail. They'd hardly be able to find him on record anyway, not in 1943.

"Jeff. Who're you then?"

Andrew was surprised at how English he sounded. While he couldn't quite place his accent, he was definitely from the Midlands somewhere. Andrew decided he liked his voice, soft though it was. Probably saving his strength.

"A friend. We've been sent to protect you," Andrew said.

Jeff looked at him, scrutinising his face. He knew a wounded soldier when he saw one. "Had too many folk tell me they're meh friend lately. Not sure I trust you."

Andrew almost wanted to question him then, but held back. There would be time for interrogation later. He wasn't sure he trusted Jeff. "I never asked you to trust me. You're under our care now. You're coming with us."

"I suppose I don't have much choice in the matter, do I?" Jeff said.

"No, sir, you don't. You belong to us until we decide to let you go," Andrew said. "Do you feel up to walking?"

"I dunno. I ain't tried it yet."

"Get him a chair, matron. It'll make things easier," Andrew said, turning his attention back to the matron.

She didn't look too happy to be ordered about in her hospital, but she was hardly going to complain and left them to fetch a wheelchair. Neither Andrew or Jeff spoke until she was out of earshot.

"You with the Government or something?" Jeff said.

"His Majesty's Secret Service, though we seem to be doing more to keep His Majesty out of trouble than the country these days," Andrew said. "Save your strength. We'll talk more in private where there aren't so many people around."

There was no choice but to accept Andrew's word. Silence fell between them until the matron returned. Just getting in the chair required more effort than Jeff expected and he was glad he hadn't had to walk. Making sure he had his things with him, Andrew wheeled him back to the truck outside. The two men Andrew had brought with him sat either side of Jeff, stopping him from trying to escape.

Jeff had been right. Sunlight was not kind at all to him and he covered his eyes the whole way, wishing he were back inside where it was dark. Jeff wasn't sure where they were going, or if Andrew was even the right man to tell, but he wasn't sure he had any other options. The two men either side of him didn't acknowledge him at all, merely holding him firmly as if he were a prisoner. That they had bound his hands made him feel like an animal. Andrew had given the order with such apathy Jeff wondered what might happen to him when they arrived. Maybe Andrew was no friend to him at all. With no one to allay his fears, the silence in the truck was almost unbearable.

* * *

Cassie had reluctantly allowed herself to be taken to one of the surviving community halls that had become ever more frequently used to house those whose homes had been destroyed. People were slowly billeted out to other areas, or moved to other cities, as places became available. There wasn't enough room to keep everyone in the halls.

Cassie sat on the edge of the stage, wrapped in a blanket. Shock was beginning to set in. She'd lost everything. Sure, she was by no means the first or only person to have lost so much, but that didn't make it hurt any less. She wasn't even sure where her mother was. She'd asked around, but no one had seen her.

Bev brought her a cup of tea and they sat together, listening to the wireless that was on nearby, if only to create some sort of noise that meant no one had to sit there in silence. War reports were somehow strangely comforting, especially when they brought good news from the frontline.

"We'll be alright, Cas. We'll start again, just you and me," Bev said, an arm around her shoulders.

"How can we just start again? Where are we going to live? I'm sorry, I just... I can't think right now. It hurts too much."

He set his mug of tea down and brought her close, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere. We'll get through this, one way or another. Never you mind about anything, alright?"

Cassie smiled. His optimism was beginning to get catchy. Maybe things would be okay, but she wasn't ready to see things that way, not yet. She leaned against him, thankful for his company. The wireless droned on. And then the stirring sounds of Beethoven's Fifth caught her attention. The familiar and calming voice of the Prime Minister began, and Cassie listened intently, hoping to find some sort of reason for this madness.

"...Last night, we were attacked by German air raids in London and all over the country in a sustained attack designed to bring on our surrender. Let me assure you that will not be the case. We are in the dreadful business of revenge now, and we will not leave them unpunished. For England, for glory, for-"

The signal died, leaving hissing static in its wake. No one spoke. It seemed like a terrible omen.

Somewhere, an older man laughed nervously. "Maybe the tower got hit. Technical difficulties and the like."

The man next to him nodded in agreement. "Of course. Technical difficulties. That has to be it. Maybe the thing's gone and got broke."

"Must be sabotage. Wireless like that don't go and get broke just like that," a third man nearby countered. "I should know, I used to make 'em, years ago."

"Only thing you used to make was hard work, ya fat bastard," the second said, only half-joking.

"The only thing you were ever good for was lying about, you lazy arse," the third retorted.

One of the women who ran the shelter approached the two men. "Can we please keep a civil tongue in here? Haven't we got enough to deal with without you at each other's throats?"

They mumbled apologies, though Cassie wasn't sure exactly how heartfelt they were. Someone switched the wireless off. The silence in the air was deafening. Cassie shivered and let Bev hold her tight. Yes, technical difficulties. What else could it be? She pretended she didn't have other more sinister scenarios playing out in her head as she sipped her tea.


	3. Friday Afternoon, April 23, 1943

The base at Lichfield was an overgrown old manor house, built on the site of an old fairground, that had once been owned by an American businessman. It had sat vacant for several years before MI5 acquired it just before the war. It was surrounded by high stone walls with big iron gates, and the buildings inside were closer to caricature than real. It was never set up to be a working manor, and the manor house itself was gaudy and sat somewhat uncomfortably on the land. It looked too big, or too small, or quite the wrong shape. It was never really clear just what was wrong with it, just that it didn't look right.

There were also far more detached buildings than one might ordinarily expect, as if the estate had been built and planned by someone who had no real idea what they were doing. The stables looked like they belonged n a Texan ranch, while the servants' quarters had been covered in a strange red paint that looked altogether like it should've been in Mexico rather than the West Midlands. A few of the buildings were mixes of German and Dutch Colonial American styles and had nothing of the classical architecture the manor house had. It even had a replica Roman temple down by the pond, dedicated, somewhat ironically, to Athena. Her statue overlooked the pond and looked rather forlorn, especially as she had been made to look more Roman than Grecian.

None of this, however, had stopped MI5 finding a use for everything, and not one of the buildings remained disused. One of the sheds had been set aside for the crashed aircraft, and a team of engineers were working around the clock trying to work out what it was, how it worked, and who might've made it. The stables had been put to good use as Charles had some horses brought in; Andrew had found trotting around the grounds on horseback to be particularly relaxing. But there would be no time for riding now.

The truck pulled up outside the manor house and Jeff was escorted inside to a room that had been prepared for him. It was somewhat smaller than the rest of the rooms and overlooked a forest of trees at the back. Jeff lay back on the bed, hands finally unbound, gazing blankly up at the ceiling. Andrew sent the two men away and closed the door. Charles had asked him to befriend their crash victim and see if he couldn't coax some information out of him. It was a method that had worked well in the past, and Andrew hoped it would work well now. He was loath to go harder on a man who had been through such a horrific crash. He would make sure to get their own medical staff to look over him to make sure there was nothing seriously wrong with him.

"So, do you remember much about what happened?" Andrew said, sitting down in an armchair by the window.

"Not really. Dunno who shot me down. All I remember is fire and pain. Maybe they caught me after all. I thought I'd outrun 'em," Jeff said.

"You escaped from somewhere? One of the prison camps?" Andrew said.

"Nah, I ain't from around here. You got problems though, if they get here. More than this bloody war, though," Jeff said, wondering how much he should tell and if he would even be believed.

Andrew grew concerned. "Who's 'they'? We got more enemies we should be worried about?"

"Oh yeah, but you'll never believe me. It ain't the right time for this, it's too early, decades too early, but I couldn't stop them, I-"

Jeff paused. Messing with time was always problematic even when invasions weren't involved. Society wasn't ready to know about aliens, let alone aliens who were coming to invade and wipe the planet clean.

"What are you talking about? You sound mad, you really do. I'll make sure to get the old doctor to have a look at you," Andrew said.

Jeff closed his eyes as he wondered if he'd found the right man to tell. He seemed nice enough, but you could never tell with spies. Figuring he had nothing left to lose, he sat up.

"Okay. I'll tell you everything, but you gotta promise not to interrupt and keep an open mind. Can you do that for me?" Jeff asked.

"You have my confidence," Andrew replied.

"Jus'... Just for a moment, imagine there were other life forms on other planets apart from Earth. Now imagine if they were real. I can't tell you what they look like. It's too hard, but just pretend they're real. The ones that are chasing me came from another planet. They want to invade Earth. I'm hoping to stop them before this place is wiped out," Jeff said, stopping to let his words sink in.

"Well, that's a new one. I can't say I've heard a cover story quite so queer before. So who's really invading then? Are the Germans planning to invade Britain? Come on, tell me what's really going on," Andrew said. He laughed it off, unsure exactly how to take such a wild story.

"I just told you what's really going on. Look, you have to believe me. The Germans end up defeated anyway. This is more important. They'll be here soon, I can feel it. And when they come, they won't hold back. At least you can negotiate with Germans. All these people want is land and conquest. You'll never win," Jeff urged.

"I like to see you so confident in our Allied victory. However, I fail to see how we are at all threatened by alien beings from Mars. What nonsense," Andrew said.

"Nah, they're not from Mars. Come here. I'll show you what I saw," Jeff said.

Andrew, still as curious as he was sceptical, sat on the bed opposite him. Jeff clasped his head and touched their foreheads together. Andrew found Jeff's eyes utterly hypnotic and could not look away from them. And then he saw-

He couldn't describe it. It was far beyond his comprehension. Creatures, on some sort of rocky planet, and strange-looking planes that flew through space. Towards Earth. They flew in formation, heading down towards them. Little tiny pinpricks of light. It seemed too outrageous to be true.

Andrew sat back once Jeff let go of him. His head was swimming. What to make of all this? Would anyone believe him if he told them what he'd been shown? How could he be certain what he'd seen was the truth?

"I... I don't... What was that?"

Jeff lay back down again, tired from sitting up. "Come here," he said, patting the bed next to him. "I'll tell you all about it, but you gotta believe I'm telling the truth."

Andrew hesitated a moment, but did lie down beside him. "I think I'd be willing to believe anything after seeing that."

Jeff wrapped an arm around his shoulder and brought him close. "You're in so much trouble. Nothing here smells right either. Things have gone down the wrong pathway. Maybe that's why they're coming now."

"What's gone wrong?"

"Everything. None of this is how it's supposed to be. If I had my ship working properly, I could go and fix things, but I'm stuck here now. Your boys better not mess with her too much. I'm gonna need her later."

Andrew turned to look at him, propping himself up on his elbows to stare into his battered face. He wasn't sure he was supposed to get so close to him, but there was something about him that drew him in and he had trouble turning away from him. "You look so human. This feels like a very bad dream."

"I told ya. This is all too early for you lot. Looking human is easier. You've seen too much for someone your age," Jeff said, gently running a hand through his hair.

"War does that to people. I want it all to be over. I was far too young when I got in. Too young to know any better," Andrew said. He felt too old. Too tired. He hardly thought he deserved to feel that way. He was still a young man by all accounts.

"Come here. I can't fix it, but I might be able to help yeh sleep at night," Jeff said.

Andrew settled back into his arms. His vulnerability was showing again, and the memories in his head had him frozen in fear. All he could hear was Jeff's voice as tears began to trickle down his cheeks.

* * *

Andrew had eventually left Jeff's side. He did feel somewhat better, but it was the nagging feeling that something wasn't right that made him search out someone who might know what was going on. If things were indeed going badly, surely they should know about it. Even though he felt Jeff would not escape, he nevertheless left a guard at his door, just in case, before heading back to the men under his command, congregating in one of the central command rooms they'd set up on the ground floor to manage their operations. The men stood and saluted as he entered and he waved them to their seats again.

"What's been going on? Do we know why we never saw that raid coming?" Andrew asked.

One of the men stood to address him, handing him transcriptions and reports they'd prepared for him. "No idea, sir. We've been getting reports of heavy bombing all over the country. We think the communications systems are all down. We've not heard anything back for two hours. It's all dead, sir."

Andrew scanned them distractedly. "Now why does that worry me? Have you heard from Charles yet?"

"No, sir. He hasn't been in contact since he left early this morning. We've had no word from London either. Sir, if I might be so bold, it's possible this is the first day of invasion. We do know they were discussing it, sir, as a possible manoeuvre, but we never thought they were serious. Perhaps they were desperate enough to attempt it. What should we do?"

Andrew left the papers on the desk and wandered over to the window, lost in thought. What were you supposed to do in this sort of situation? True, they had the battalions to protect what was left of the city if it came to that, but it was hard to work out what else to do. There was no way to collect intelligence, or to confirm with his superiors as to what to do. Maybe the best thing was to build a fortress and see if they could hold their ground if the Germans came knocking. He turned back to them.

"Go find the soldiers at the barracks. Get them to round up anyone who's still alive and get them back here. It's not much of a fortress, but it'll have to do. Bring whatever food rations you can find. We'll need everything if we're going to survive this. It's not the best plan, but it's all we can do until told otherwise. Got that?"

There was a chorus of 'yes sir's' and they got to work. Andrew watched them, worry beginning to take hold. After a moment's thought, he scribbled a few notes down on paper and headed out to one of the sheds. They'd kept two dozen messenger pigeons in case of emergency, but no one had ever thought they'd need them, so they'd been somewhat pushed out of mind. The only reason Andrew remembered them was hearing a couple of birds chittering away in a tree nearby.

The birds cooed agitatedly as he looked at them. This was it. This was his last chance to get any sort of message out. He had no way of knowing if anyone would be around to receive the message, but it was all he had left.

"This it, then?"

Andrew looked up as their trainer emerged from the shadows. "Looks like it. Communications are down everywhere. We've got nothing else to use."

The trainer approached, stubbing out his cigarette on the ground. "'ere, where d'you want them to go then?"

"London, Leicester, Manchester, anywhere. Let me know if we get any replies," Andrew said, leaving the notes in his hand.

"Right on, then. You leave it to me. These birds'll get through, don't you worry about it, sir."

Andrew glanced at the birds as the man saluted. He tried not to look worried as he turned and left. He was feeling restless. He needed to do something, but there wasn't much left to do. Without Charles to talk to, he felt like he was doing everything blind, with no real guidance to know if he was doing the right thing. He took his leave and headed down to the pond. He sat on the grass and wondered if this wasn't the end of the world.

* * *

It was late afternoon by the time Charles arrived in London. It didn't usually take that long to travel from Lichfield to London, but there had been more checkpoints than he had remembered, as well as a few detours that had left him hopelessly lost until some farmer had pointed him in the right direction. He began to wish he'd bothered to pay more attention to geography than he had.

London itself looked nothing like he remembered it being. He hadn't been back for a year, but the change was significant. London could be dreary at the best of times, but there was a deep melancholy in the air that made Charles worry. Sure, the bombing raids had taken their toll, but this seemed to be something more. As he drove down a street he came to yet another checkpoint. He wondered when Britain had become so paranoid as the soldiers guarding it ordered him out of his vehicle.

"No unauthorised persons allowed in the city," one of them said.

Charles did not like being addressed as a commoner. "If you would excuse me, I am due for meetings at Downing Street, so if you'll just let me through-"

"I said, no unauthorised persons allowed in the city. His Majesty's closed the city down," the first soldier continued.

"And I, dear chap, work for His Majesty, so if you'll get out of my way, I would like to get to where I'm supposed to be, considering I'm already late," Charles said, reaching for his pistol. He wasn't intending to use it at all, just make the threat clear enough.

It made them hesitate. They stepped back, whispering to each other as if they weren't sure what they were supposed to do. It was at times like these that Charles was glad he could feign an air of importance that was usually obeyed. He hoped they would err on the side of caution and let him through anyway. He breathed a sigh of relief as one returned to him and saluted.

"Right you are, sir. Sorry for the delay. You'd best get in there then," he said as the barrier was moved out of the way.

Charles took a few spare coins out of his pocket and handed them to the soldiers. "For your troubles. I was never here."

There was another salute as Charles got back in his car and drove off, leaving them behind. He had a fair idea of where he was, now that he could see a few remnant buildings he recognised. As he turned down another street, he stopped. He became aware of what all those flags flying from windows were. Charles had never been so afraid in his life.

Soldiers in crisp grey uniforms patrolled the street, systematically searching the houses. The people were saluting back, as if they were really living in Germany. Charles knew enough German to know what they were saying. Leaving his car behind, he turned and ran, hoping they hadn't seen him.

He didn't stop until he'd found somewhere to hide. It was, ironically, an old air raid shelter that had been damaged during a previous air raid. It would do while he gathered his thoughts. He didn't dare light a lamp or strike a match. Sitting alone in the dark, he began to wonder if he hadn't been imagining things.

"London's fallen. But they-they weren't supposed to invade Britain. We were quite sure their goal had been Europe, not Britain," Charles whispered. "Who the hell am I fighting for?"

He froze as he heard soldiers approach. They were marching down the street. Charles hoped that's all they were doing. He had to get out of there, but he was too scared to think straight. He was trapped, stuck behind enemy lines. A soft breeze caught a pamphlet that lay at his feet. Charles lay it on his knees as he lit a match. There was his King, His Majesty Edward the Eighth, pictured under a German flag. One of those flags. The Fuhrer stood beside him, proud and majestic and evil. Charles managed to read the German text underneath it before the match extinguished itself.

"Holy Mother of God. We're done for."

* * *

There was only one pub left now, a decent sized place called The White Castle. The others had all been destroyed. The White Castle stuck out like an awkward gnarled tree, standing alone on the street as rubble collected beside it. How it had managed to survive was something of a mystery. After a day of clearing rubble, bodies and injured people, it was the only place left the soldiers could get a decent drink. There was no Cassie to sing for them, no band playing to alleviate the uncomfortable silence outside. Small talk was as much as any of them could muster. At least in previous raids, things had seemed better. There hadn't been such widespread death and devastation. All that was left now was shock and numbness, especially as news had begun to filter in about other cities around the country that had also been hit with a comparable severity. It felt like a real invasion. No one felt safe anymore.

Even Chas, in spite of his restlessness, was unusually quiet. He had even taken to drinking alcohol. Julian wondered if he was really as fine as he had said he was. They sat together in a corner of the pub, Dom, Chris and Kelly joining them, as they finally took some rest from the day's work. The radios had died mid-afternoon. No one could get a signal, so news of what was happening elsewhere had come to a sudden stop. Julian had tried to call London, but nothing would connect, not even on secure military lines.

Without any word as to what they should do, they were effectively isolated. Julian was somewhat reassured that they had enough troops to fend off an invasion, but he did not wish to think of that. Not now, not when things were so awful.

The pub fell silent as a couple of MI5 men arrived. The look on their faces told them everything they needed to know. There was fear, grim determination, and desperation to do something, anything, to feel like they might survive whatever the Germans wanted to throw at them.

"Come on, lads. We're evacuating everyone to Lichfield. Orders from our commander."

There was a murmur of agreement and the soldiers finished their drinks and shuffled out behind them. The war wasn't over yet, not by a long shot. Chas glanced at Julian and tried to gain some reassurance from him. All it did was make him afraid.

* * *

Charles stayed where he was, engulfed in silence and fear, hoping he might somehow think of a way to escape if he sat there long enough. He heard footsteps approaching again, but his panic dissipated when he realised it was only one person. He could possibly take one person out, if necessary. Standing up, he looked around for a weapon. Arming himself with a plank of wood that used to be part of a bench, he waited silently as those footsteps descended into the bunker. Charles didn't like that he could understand him. The plan in his head was not even that well-formed, but it was all he had, and he decided he was not going to sit there like a coward while Britain, Great wonderful Britain, was torn apart by bloody Germans. So he fought back his nerves and waited.

As soon as the soldier stepped in front of him, Charles struck him across the back of the head before he could turn around and see him. The German fell to the floor, face first. Glancing around to make sure no one was spying on him, Charles dragged the soldier into the darkness at the back of the bunker as he stripped him of his uniform. The man wasn't dead, but he was somewhat dazed and didn't resist too much. The uniform didn't quite fit Charles properly, but it was the best he could manage. He figured he might put his spoken German to good use and try and talk his way out of the city. He was quite sure no one in London would help him now, so there was no point in staying.

"Oi, you there, what were you doing? What's the best way out of here?" Charles said, addressing him in German.

The soldier was too dazed to answer him. Charles sighed. That'd be right. He got to his feet, making sure he left nothing behind to identify him, and left the bunker, doing his best impression of someone who was supposed to be there.

* * *

The grounds of the old estate were much more crowded now. Anderson shelters were still being constructed on any spare flat ground that was available. Sure, it wasn't much, but it would keep them safe should there be any bombing, and Andrew was reluctant to advertise the fact that there were many people there. He felt it was too late to construct a deep shelter like some of the other towns had done; that might've been safer and might've held everyone without exposing anyone to harm. Two neighbouring estates were also commandeered in case there was a need for more room, with defence structures being built by the troops. Anything worth stockpiling had been taken. The threat of invasion, whether it happened or not, was high on everyone's mind, and it did at least make people easier to round up. Gathering everyone together in a fortress seemed sensible, given the circumstances.

As it turned out, they only needed one of the extra estates they'd acquired. It might still have been as full as the first, but that didn't matter. Soldiers had been split between the two estates, charged with defence of life and property. It was, of course, possible that in being so concentrated into one spot meant it would only take one bombing raid to kill them all, but it was a price worth paying. Any men who were not part of the Armed Forces and who could take up arms did so, boosting the number of soldiers.

Andrew stood on the front step of the manor house. There was an uncomfortable silence in the air. Night was falling by now. Fires had been lit to stave off the chill in the air and the process of feeding everyone had begun. Taking one last look at them, Andrew returned inside. He'd still heard nothing from his superiors, or from anyone at all. He glanced at the men working to coordinate defences as he headed up to see Jeff. He hadn't checked on him since, well, since the last time they'd spoken. He felt he perhaps deserved to know what was going on.

* * *

Jeff was sitting on his bed by the window, gazing out at the sky, when Andrew arrived. He didn't turn to look at him as he entered. Andrew wasn't sure what to say. He hadn't told anyone about what Jeff had said. He knew no one would believe him. He came and sat beside him, turning his gaze outside.

"You been busy, I see," Jeff said.

Andrew looked down at the shelters that now littered the land. "If I knew what was going on, I'd probably stop thinking the worst is about to happen."

Jeff kept staring at the sky. "You know what's going on. I told you already."

"Looks like invasion, one way or another, I suppose, whether it's strange invaders from somewhere in space or Germans. All the communication systems are down. We've got no idea what's going on. Gathering everyone together here seemed like the best plan." Andrew shifted awkwardly.

"What are you talking about? The Germans don't invade. They're too interested in Europe by now to care about Britain," Jeff said, turning to look at him.

Andrew tried to believe him. "What else could be going on? Before we lost contact, we had reports of heavy bombing all over the country. What else could it be if not invasion?"

Jeff paused to think. "None of this is bloody right at all. How could George let them fall? It don't seem right."

"Who's George? He a friend of yours?"

"He's the King. Least, he's supposed to be the King. I'd wager he ain't the King here, yeah?"

"Edward still reigns as King. I am forever glad I was never charged with keeping His Majesty out of trouble. That is a job no one wants. I know he was friendly with the Germans, but we all assumed he'd turned against them because of the war. You don't think he could have-" Andrew stopped, unsure he wanted to process that thought. That was treachery on a scale he hadn't contemplated before.

"Hey, if I knew, I'd tell ya. All I know is none of this is right. This ain't how the war's supposed to be. Someone's been messing with history, and I don't like it," Jeff said.

Silence fell between them. Andrew was growing scared that what he'd contemplated had actually happened. If they had been betrayed, if the Germans were to come and wipe them out...

Andrew drew his knees up to his chest. It could all be over soon, and not in a way he'd like. He barely noticed Jeff wrapping an arm around his shoulders, holding him tight. There was something comforting about his touch though, and Andrew let himself be drawn into his arms. He tried to fight away the feeling that everything was about to go to Hell, and no one was around to stop it.

"How can we fix it then? Can we fix it?"

Jeff glanced out the window. There were tiny pricks of light in the sky, lights that weren't stars. Invaders were coming, and they weren't from Earth. "I think it's too late to fix it now. I'm sorry I didn't get here earlier. Maybe I could've done something."

* * *

Charles had to admit some level of discomfort in wearing that uniform, even if it did mean he was left mostly undisturbed as he walked through the streets. He was giving a good air of pretending to be going somewhere important, dissuading anyone from questioning him. He was nearing Buckingham Palace, he realised, after an hour of walking. He wasn't sure he wanted to be there, or to see what the Germans might have done to it. Nevertheless, curiosity and a deep sense of hurt made him walk on. Seeing the palace just made things worse.

It was not his palace anymore. There were Germans all over the place, their evil, ugly flags desecrating the beautiful English building. There were no British guards, just cold men in grey uniforms. There was even a tank in the courtyard. Strange purple-blue lights flying over the palace caught his attention. He assumed they must be German aircraft. Charles wanted to cry. How could they win now? Surely this was invasion, and the Germans had managed to keep it so off the radar they'd caught Britain by surprise.

"It's awful, isn't it?"

An English voice spoke behind him. Charles turned to see who it was. He saw another man, dressed in a grey uniform, leaning against the opposite wall. He smoked a cigarette distractedly, averting his eyes from the palace. Charles approached him, wondering if he too was trying to get out. The darkness made his appearance difficult to discern.

Charles kicked the ground in irritation. "How did this happen? How did we let this happen?"

"You know how it happened. You were there."

Charles looked up at him. "Who are you? How do you know me?"

The man raised his head. Charles still didn't recognise him. "Come on, we need to get out of here. They'll patrol down here soon, and I'd rather not get shot by a Jerry tonight."

The man grabbed Charles' wrist and dragged him back down the street, away from the palace. They turned down another alleyway and into an underground shelter. There were more people down here, men and women, and a couple of children. They fell silent as Charles and the man entered.

One of the men sitting at the back of the room playing cards got to his feet. "You found another then?"

"Charles Firth. Found him by the palace. Though I'm not sure he even remembers me. Nevertheless, he's better off down here than wandering aimlessly out there."

"No, I don't remember you, or any of you. Who are you anyway?" Charles said as he looked over them.

The man who'd brought Charles answered him. "We're what's left of the King's Imperial Guard, such as it is. We ran before we were killed. You once served with us, remember? Last summer? You can call me Adam."

Seeing the King's Imperial Guard in German uniforms was somewhat disturbing, but some of them did look familiar, now that he took a moment to look at them. "You know things are bad when the Imperial Guard are hiding in a bunker. Jesus. It's really as bad as I think it is, isn't it?"

"Come on, take a seat and eat a little. We'll explain as much as we know," Adam said, gesturing him forward.

They sat around a small wooden table buoyed up by crates. A few others were eating as well. The benches weren't that comfortable, but they would do. Charles was still trying to think of what to do now. Could they really escape? Charles hoped so. He wanted nothing more than to get out of London and rally a defence force so they could take London back. The food he was given was meagre, but he hardly expected anything more, given the circumstances.

Charles looked around him, struck by confusion and disbelief. "So what happened anyway? It seems I leave the palace in relatively safe hands, and when I return, it's not ours anymore."

"You know how I said you were there? Remember that meeting some time ago between His Majesty and German diplomats? That's when it happened. I remember seeing you standing behind your Commander as you watched over the proceedings. You'd been brought for your language skills, so you could verify what they were saying. I was part of the King's Guard that day. What they discussed was an alliance, or a treaty, but reading between the lines gave a more sinister plan for invasion. I have heard from someone in your organisation that backroom machinations and threats from the Germans allowed His Majesty to stay in power and not abdicate. Is that really true?" Adam asked.

Charles remembered that meeting, now that he thought about it. He had heard what the Germans said and had offered more palatable translations, if only to make things seem less bad than they really were. He hadn't been sure he was supposed to have heard the real meaning of what they were talking about, nor if he was supposed to translate it. Perhaps it had all been his fault for not reporting the treachery to his Commander. It had left them vulnerable and no one had thought such a thing could even happen.

"I never told anyone what they'd really said. It frightened me too much. Maybe I shouldn't have censored myself. Maybe then none of this would've happened," Charles said.

The man next to Adam spoke then. The lamplight showed some injuries to his face and neck and Charles wasn't sure he wanted to know how he'd gotten them. "No point in wondering what might've been, Firth. Won't help us get out of here, that's for sure."

"Can we still escape from here? Or are we trapped?" Charles asked.

"We wouldn't be here if we'd been able to escape. There are too many eyes around now. Best we can do is scavenge and survive as long as we can and hope it's all over soon," Adam said.

Charles shivered then. He wasn't sure it would be over soon. He had to find a way out of here. He'd sooner die than see England ruled by a German dictator. He couldn't just sit back and hope it would all be better, but he had no plans, no ideas, and no way of knowing what was really going on. It wasn't that impossible, was it?

* * *

Jeff finally gathered enough strength to walk. With Andrew's permission to leave his room and wander the grounds as long as he didn't leave, he headed downstairs and out to the camp. The fear on the faces of the people was excruciating. It was a fear Jeff did not like at all. Still, nothing felt right. He slowly walked around, wondering if there was anything he could do to help.

He found the shed where his craft was being kept. She'd been pushed to the back, forgotten and covered with tarpaulins, as space had been made for people to sleep. He rested a hand on her. She felt dead. Lifting the tarpaulins off, he finally got a good look at the damage. Crumpled lump of metal was indeed an apt description. Hope of salvage was not promising, not when she was so lifeless. He was effectively trapped with the rest of them, waiting for invasion to come.

Leaving the shed, he headed towards the perimeter. Soldiers waited nervously. Some smoked, some drank, some played cards and pretended nothing was happening. Everyone kept their rifles close by. Jeff remembered why he hated war.

He dared to glance up at the sky. He didn't need to see those dancing lights again to know what was coming. He wished he'd thought to tell someone where he was going. Too late for that now. If he was lucky, he might be able to survive through this and salvage enough scrap to make a new ship and leave Earth as soon as possible before they came for him. It might be the only chance he had to minimise the damage, though he was not at all sure it would work. It was, however, the only choice he had left.

* * *

The grass on the hill was glistened with dew. The air was silent save the low grumble of vehicles and tanks, though it was impossible to determine their direction or whether they were inherently friendly. Andrew had left Jeff's company to patrol with the soldiers. It kept his mind from thinking about other things. He liked having a rifle in his hands; he felt useful then, I spite of how much he hated having to fight at all.

Chas had picked this particular hill. It was part of the estate and overlooked the road at the back. There was a clear line of sight across paddocks and fields. Any enemy would be noticed, and they were guarding against a surprise attack. The hill was probably more of an embankment, and there were few trees to block their view, but enough to cover their presence from the air. The stone perimeter fence added an extra layer of protection. The few messages that had come through had been garbled and scared. No one knew what was going on, but there had been some word of invasion, and of troops moving both from London and to London. The general consensus from those who had replied was to protect what you could and hope you didn't get bombed to pieces.

Unfinished trenches snaked their way over the ground, swallowing soil like a giant earthworm. They would probably be finished by morning, but that didn't seem to matter. Just looking at them told of the seriousness of what was happening. Andrew gazed up at the sky. The stars looked brighter out here.

"D'you really think there'll be an invasion?" Chris asked.

"I bloody hope not. The last thing I need is more trouble from them. Don't like feeling the ground shaking neither," Kelly said.

"Hey, how's our man up there anyway? The one who crashed in his spaceship?" Chas said, turning to Andrew.

"Jeff? Well, he seems fine. He doesn't seem quite as badly injured as I thought he might be. Must be resilient," Andrew said, obscuring the truth about him.

Chas raised an eyebrow. "Has he said anything yet? Where'd be come from anyway?"

"He never said where he was from, actually. He was right about-"

"Hey, look at that! You see those weird lights in the sky too?" Chas exclaimed, gazing up in awe.

Everyone gazed at the sky. Strange lights danced in the sky, blue, purple, white. They formed geometric patterns, mimicking the constellations humans had seen in the sky for millennia. No one spoke. The movement of the lights was reminiscent of aircraft, though why invading aircraft would use lights was confusing.

"What do you think it is? Germans?" Chas said.

Bright beams of light began to light up the land, as if they were searching for something. White, blue, purple lights, dancing and sweeping over the still countryside.

"Holy Mother of…" Andrew trailed off, unable to believe what he was seeing.

The earth turned blue as the lights approached. The ground shook again. An eerie noise filled the air, quiet at first. The lights got closer, and the closer they got, the more they looked like strange aircraft.

"Come on, lads. Buck up. We'll shoot 'em down, hey?" Julian said, trying to keep his men motivated.

The blue light approached, crawling across the landscape before them. The earth lay still in anticipation and fear.


	4. A Letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles, still trapped in London, puts pen to paper while he still can. Set two weeks after the end of From The Sun To The World.
> 
> Which I really should have posted before now, so. Consider this an epilogue, of sorts.

May 8th, 1942  
London, or what's left of it

To whoever's still left alive to read this, I hope you're safe. I really do. I'm writing this in a bunker somewhere in London. It's been two weeks since I arrived, and I am still barely scraping together an existence. Every day is a struggle. Maybe this will be the last thing I ever write before they come for me.

You see, I feel I ought to explain a few things while I still have a chance. It's 1942, and we are at war with Germany. At least, we used to be at war with Germany. Through some evil machinations, our dear beloved King, as useless as he was, was bought by the Germans and glorious London has fallen. He should have abdicated, oh yes he should have abdicated, and then we would not be in such a mess, I am sure of it.

I tear my heart out as I admit I knew what was being planned a year ago. I did nothing to stop it, did not want to think about what was happening. No, I had just mistranslated the German Chancellor. That must be it.

It is a useless exercise. I knew what they said, knew the King also understood, and I stood there, translating as best I could, hoping in vain that this was just a misunderstanding. But what could I do? No one seemed to share my fears, so I kept silent, and we have been dealt a fatal blow.

The city is in ruins. London has been bombed to within an inch of her life, sacrificed and hidden from her people as if it might make things better. I haven't heard any news from outside. I know the German propaganda, that they have killed anyone who didn't survive the bombing, and it depresses me greatly. I am posing as a German officer in the hopes I will not be found out and killed like everyone else. I am the last survivor of my group anyway. The last of the Imperial Guard are gone. They did not return some nights ago, and I assume they were caught and killed. That no one has come for me reassures me I have not been discovered yet, but I cannot pretend I will never be caught.

I am alone now. All alone. I scrounge what food I can, and try and learn whatever news I can, but the Germans are everywhere, always looking for anyone who's still here, still trying to fight them. The street battles are becoming few and far between. I hold no hope we will ever win back our city. There is no one left who can fight, no one at all. I suspect anyone left still alive has been enslaved, or sent to the camps, or killed.

Great Britain no longer is.

Perhaps I should kill myself before they come for me, and hide this letter where no one can find it. Maybe one day someone will find this, maybe when Britan lives again, and I can only hope they can forgive me for letting her fall in the first place. I was in no position to do anything to stop it. I was helpless. I was just a translator, I had no power.

Wait. That's a lie. I had plenty of power. I was an officer. That's how I got stuck in London. I was called to a war meeting on that fateful day. So I went, and that's when I discovered London had fallen. I left my men back in Birmingham, left them to fend for themselves. I wonder if any survived. Probably not. I daresay they have all been killed or imprisoned. How I have failed my own people.

I don't think there is anything left to tell. Maybe they will come for me tonight as I sleep in this bunker, too afraid to leave for fear someone might follow me here. I have no one to keep watch. And yet I must sleep because I am tired and exhausted from this struggle and I am not quite ready to give up yet. But there is not much hope left. We were sorely beaten, sorely tricked into this humiliation, and now we are suffering for it. I will never trust a German ever again.

Ahh, I must stop now. I am running short of lamplight, and I can hear a patrol coming. If I am alive when they are gone, perhaps I will continue this.

For the glory of the Kingdom of Great Britain,  
Cyrus, MI5 Agent


End file.
